


The Beach

by Causa



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Causa/pseuds/Causa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has already occurred to you that a life without Rose is no life at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beach

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at extended stream-of-consciousness

"Everything is—is over. It's over." 

Garnet said you were being histrionic. You had life before Rose and would have life after one. Yes, you admitted, you would have _a_ life—but Rose was who smiled at you every morning and made your skin glow. Rose was the one who you could share memories with, memories of the soft light of Homeworld's moon, more beautiful than Earth's, you'd have to say, memories of the cleanness and beauty of the buildings, of the music that would play time to time, and you would begin to hum it sometimes, when you were nervous, and Rose would always hum it with you, even and especially when Garnet wouldn't. And when the bad memories were drudged up—and they were eventually, every time—she would rub your back and wrap her arms around you and you rested your face in her chest until the shaking subsided and you could speak, could tell her thank you. She would say she was glad to. And you would say no: thank you for everything. And you would start to cry again, overwhelmed again, but with happiness. She can never understand how much she means to you—how much she makes you feel you are important. Being so important herself— _truly_ important—she could never understand what she gives to you. But she gives it to you gladly, each day, in millions of ways including this one—or she _would_ , were she not about to—

It has already occurred to you that a life without Rose is no life at all. But it occurs to you, now—Garnet has gone into the temple, Rose is with Greg (you feel bile in your throat) somewhere faraway, and Amethyst is with that blonde woman—that you are alone. 

You don't _have_ to live life without Rose. In fact it would be the most logical course of action not to—and best for the others. It's not like you'd be any help with Rose gone. The only reason you're able to train Amethyst to fight, to destroy the creatures (had you ever met them back on Homeworld?) that seem to emerge on a daily basis, to see the humans falling over themselves at their beach bonfires without retching as you ask yourself _this is what we fought for?_ is because Rose is here, and she is so happy, and you see her and you remember the reason for everything you did since you first saw her, and you remember how she saved you from the sad blur of life you shuffled through. 

She has been so happy lately; when she speaks with the humans her eyes glisten. She wants to give everything a chance—so much so that she nearly died to give the opportunity. So when she sees all she's ever wanted—that pure and simple desire for fairness, something you can only admire, cannot _truly_ comprehend (coming from her in particular—there existed no better proof of _in_ equality than her)—happening before her, she is delighted and it shows in the warm glow of her dark eyes, the curl of her full lips, the faint red in her cheeks. There will never be anything more beautiful, you know, and you are so inexpressibly fortunate to witness her. But—it has been almost seven thousand years and it still alarms you and makes you smile—you don't only witness her. You live alongside her. 

Your mouth is so dry it hurts to take in oxygen and you feel your cheeks becoming wet. There is no way you can keep yourself composed without her. See, it's already starting. You can't stop. Your legs give out and you collapse to the stone ground. You feel yourself convulsing. You couldn't move if you tried. How are you going to do this if you can't even get up? See, you can't do anything without her. 

You know you've got to hurry up before anyone gets back. You wouldn't want anyone to see and if they did they would stop you. Because they don't understand. Ruby and Sapphire have each other. Amethyst can have people on her side in no time. Rose—you feel your stomach ache. She knows how much she matters to you, so surely she would accept this. And if she doesn't, she'll be dead soon anyway. 

How disgusting. 

_She'll be dead soon anyway_.

That is enough to get you to your feet. It's not a long walk to the top of the cliff; the ground below you is bare and darkened under the black sky. There is a rock to your right and you know that for this to be a sure thing you're going to have to hit it on the way down. You run through it in your head, the angle at which you need to position yourself. It won't be hard to do. So you position yourself. You take your last look at Earth; you wish it would have been of Rose. It is still and quiet; the waves of the ocean shimmer in the moonlight, almost lovely. There is no one on the beach. _Good._

Why do you care about that? It must be Rose rubbing off on you. You wish more of her had, so that, perhaps, you could be able to lose her. You wish you didn't have to lose her. You are crying now (did you ever stop?) You close your eyes. There is a breeze that pricks at your skin; it is not strong enough to do anything. You step toward the breeze, toward the beach; you anticipate with more excitement than you have ever in your life felt the feeling of falling. 

You do not feel it. 

You feel suspended. In space and time, as you would be if you were around when Rose is gone. Falling must not feel helpless when you know where you are falling _to_ —that must be it. It has been some time, so you tense yourself involuntary for the impact you know is coming. Off the cliff you leapt and twisted yourself such that you would hit the rock headfirst, so it is the feeling of the wind there you notice most. But it is not hitting you right; it feels as though it is blowing onto your face directly as opposed to at an angle. You open your eyes. 

You are suspended in the air. You see the ground below but are not moving any closer to it. You begin to feel giddy when your body registers movement—but you are moving in the wrong direction. 

"Pearl! What are you _thinking_?" 

You are on the ground, on your back, dizzy. Garnet is standing above you. You say her name quietly, letting yourself recognize her. You were so close to leaving her and everyone else that your mind had already discarded them (except for Rose, of course, always, Rose.) But not entirely, for you know who she is now, after some silence. You remember who she was. Now she is an obstacle. You feel rage gather in your gut in course through you. How dare she? How dare she? 

" _Garnet_!" 

"Pearl, what are you _doing_?" 

You have never seen so much emotion in Garnet's face. There is anger and hurt and disgust and confusion. And she is frightened. And so she is distracted. You bolt upward and bound off the cliff's edge again, precision be damned, who cares if your gem hits the rock? You can't possibly survive a fall from this height. You hope. 

Hope is all you will do; she has got you again, clutching you tightly in her enlarged fists. When you try to break free, kicking and punching and screaming, her grip tightens, tightens so much it hurts. Maybe if you keep fighting she will squeeze you in two, on accident. But your gem is not in her grip. Oh well. Maybe somehow your gem will be crushed in the process of it all. Probably not, but you can hope, and anything would be better than the awareness that is spreading to your mind like poison. Maybe you can stay in your gem forever. Maybe if you stay long enough it will expend all its energy keeping you healthy inside. Maybe you will eventually run out of energy and break on your own. Anything. Anything is fine. Anything but this—now. 

You are on the ground again, on your back. You try again, jumping off. You know it is useless but your body moves on its own. This time Garnet throws you away from the cliff, to the temple, in frustration. She throws you with force so you roll roughly on the ground, collecting bruises from the small rocks embedded into the earth until you reach the bottom of the incline. Your skin feels raw and sore. It is better now than it was before. You are alone for some time. When Garnet reaches you you have accepted that you have to live, at least for now, so you are sobbing, your chest heavy with disappointment and disgust in this and every failure, "Please don't tell Rose. Please don't tell Rose."

She has never realized how weak you are. If she knows you are _this_ weak she will never view you the same way. You can't have her die knowing what you are: useless and pitiful and weak. Nor can you have her die. She can't. She can't. 

Garnet promises she will tell no one. You don't care who she tells as long as it is not Rose. When Amethyst and Rose come back, the two of you act as though you just completed a mission. Rose does not ask you what it was; she smiles at you when she sees you and your body aches. 

When you think you are alone you try again. You try many times. You frustrate Garnet so much that you make her unfuse. You think this will be your chance—but nothing has ever united the red and blue gems more quickly than seeing your toes on the grassy edge, bent. 

You shout that you hate her. It's your body. It's your body. You hate her. But you hate yourself more—so much more. And you love Rose so much but you hate her now even more than that.


End file.
